Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Lauren
When I was a kid, I vowed that I would only play pro if it was in the NHL.
Twelve-year-old me assumed that by the time my chance rolled around in eight or so years, the men’s league would include women.
My child mind assumed we were equal to the task, that evolution and physical strength were stale concepts, so when dreams crashed into reality, I played for the Chicago Athenas in the nascent women’s league before it evolved into something better.
I won every prize available to me: the Isobel Cup, best rookie, MVP three years running, and Olympic gold.
Of course we were paid a pittance, played in substandard facilities, and never got the respect we deserved.
These days, the Professional Women’s Hockey League was all I could ever have dreamed of for my former profession.
The league now sold out arenas, produced bona fide superstars, and actually paid their players a living wage plus bonuses.
A little part of me was ticked off that I didn’t get to experience the new and improved version, that my bum knee took me out of contention.
But I loved my current job. And when a client won the Cup—men or women’s league—it was a personal victory for me.
Today I was celebrating with one of my favorite people, Jason Isner.
Not only was Jason a client, he was also one of my closest friends.
We had known each other since Rebels Youth Hockey Camp where I skated circles around him.
We even shared an apartment in our senior year in college when we both attended the University of Michigan and our respective college hockey programs. It had been fifteen years since we lived in the same city, and here we were, together again in Chicago, with our lives finally taking off.
My bestie had crammed a lifetime of experience into a year: moved back to Chicago, started with a new team, had a baby, fell in love, and won the Cup.
Talk about overachieving. I adored the guy, but I kind of liked it better when we were both lovable losers, comfortably embedded in our singledom and happy to be defined by our careers.
Even his backyard with its newly painted swing set, multiple hockey players vying to be grill meister, and kids running around like they’d been hooked up to sugar solution IVs was a testament to how far my friend had come—and the stasis of my own life.
Thad came back from the bar, or rather the kitchen setup with adult beverages, and handed me a bottle of Corona.
“Thanks,” I said, giving him a peck.
“No problem, babe.” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got that cute crimp between your eyebrows, and usually I’d be telling you how adorable it is, but honestly, you look like someone walked over your grave.”
Skated over it, more like. I still hadn’t told him.
Blindsiding him in one of his favorite haunts, the Empty Net, had seemed cruel, and we hadn’t spent much time together since while he worked all his waking hours, putting together a big deal with overseas investors.
He was leaving for his Dubai trip tomorrow, so I would have to tell him before then.
“I’m fine! Just wondering which of the kids is going to knock the Cup over first. Probably Tilly.”
Theo’s rambunctious five-going-on-fifty-year-old was currently on the swings, but she was a curious little girl with patented Kershaw energy, so I would put a wager on her being the disruptor any day of the week.
“I can’t believe I get to be at a celly for a player’s day with the Cup!”
I smiled. “They’re just average guys with big egos.”
“Yeah, but the Rebels, babe. These guys rule!”
Fondness came over his expression, and I thought he was about to kiss me, but at the last second he spoke over my shoulder. “NoBo, my man!”
I turned to the Rebels goalkeeper, Noah Boden. He and Thad had become friendly in the last couple of months.
“Thad the Cad! How ya doin’, bro?”
They did some complicated manly handshake that ended with a fist bump but then morphed into a weird high-five. Noah leaned in and bussed my cheek.
“Hey, Lauren, you good?”
“Yeah, fine. Heard you had fun in Green Bay on your day with the Cup.”
“Fun? Sure, if you count almost dropping it off the back of a pick-up. My cousin Anthony is a menace.”
“Dude!” Thad cut in. “Is that the guy with body paint at Game 7?”
“Nah, that was my second cousin, Joey. Ant is my first cousin on my mom’s side.
Look at this video.” He whipped out his phone while my attention strayed to the rest of the crowd.
I waved at my sister Sadie who was chatting with elder stateswomen WAGs, Elle Kershaw and Jordan Hunt.
Beside them were Jason and Franky, the happy couple and new parents of one-month-old Cammi, who was born in the Rebels arena owners’ box during the third period of Game 6.
Jason had been toting his little girl around, wrapped in one of those swaddling baby carriers.
Now they were doing a handoff, which the new dad managed smoothly before they shared a tender kiss.
Sigh. They were so adorable together. Franky headed off with the baby while Jason took a seat in an Adirondack chair.
I left the boys to sit with my friend. “God, could you be any smugger?”
“I probably could be,” Jason said with a grin. “But I’ll try to keep it in check around green-gilled haters such as yourself. Where’s your boy?”
“My boy is over at that cooler, talking to his favorite Rebels player.”
“What?” He looked over to where Thad and Noah were chatting. “A goalie? Who picks a goalie as their favorite player?”
“Well, if you were nicer to him, maybe he’d pick you.”
Jason frowned. “Been a little busy to be bromancing your boyfriend, Lo. But if it’s serious, I’ll make more of an effort.”
“Oh, it’s serious.” I inclined my head. “He’s going to propose.”
“Did you tell him I’m taken?”
Of course he would find it amusing. Lauren Yates, getting hitched? If only he knew the truth. When I didn’t respond, Jason’s green eyes blew wide.
“Shit, this is for real? Lo, that’s—wow!” I could see his brain ticking over, wondering how I had arrived at this point in such a relatively short time. He could talk. “Is this what you want?”
“I see everyone moving on with their lives, having babies and falling in love, and I want that for myself.”
My old pal was clearly trying to go at this delicately, which to be fair, was not in his wheelhouse. “But you and Thadly? This is the real deal?”
Was it so unlikely? “Of course! But there’s a tiny problem that has to be resolved before I can marry him.”
“How tiny?”
I had to tell someone, anyone. Even if I kept the details to myself, this news was bursting to find voice.
“I need to divorce my first husband.”
Jason looked like I’d walloped him over the head with the large, shiny trophy taking center stage in his backyard.
“Did you say … you mean you’re …”
I hissed at him, “Keep it down, dummy.”
“Married?” he shout-whispered. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Drank a little vodka, sang a little Elvis, got a little married.”
“A little married?” He looked around, as if he expected to find my co-conspirator-in-nuptials in the vicinity. “How did this happen, Lo?”
How could I explain that I had let Russian charm, a killer smile, and Arctic blue eyes sway me from the straight and narrow? Jason didn’t know my history with Nazarov, or at least not the signposted version. I couldn’t tell him the who, but I could share the what.
“I was meeting a client in Vegas—”
“It’s someone you represent?”
“No. But I met someone else, had a fun night, and didn’t even realize what happened until recently when he showed up with the proof.”
Jason’s eyes flashed. “Is this guy threatening you in some way?”
Define “threatening.”
“No, it’s just neither of us realized what we had done until several months later and now we need to get it annulled. It’s merely a formality but …” I cast a glance toward Thad.
“You don’t want to tell the Thadster?”
“No, but I will. Soon. Though it happened before I met him. In fact, waking up that morning and realizing I’d gone a little crazy with … a stranger … was the kick in the keister I needed to get my life together. And that was before I realized just how crazy it all was.”
“What do you need from me?”
Thank God for Jason. I loved that he was now living in Chicago so I could share my troubles—or a sanitized version of them—with him in person.
“Nothing. I just wanted to tell someone, and you’re my someone.”
A little voice in my head chided, not Thad, then?
Jason squeezed my arm. “Pretty wild, I have to say. Doesn’t sound like you, to be honest. You’re so …”
“Common-sensical?”
“I was going to say ‘cautious.’ You’re naturally suspicious of guys, which can be healthy but also limiting.
” Jason was the one person apart from Sadie and Gunnar who understood how my relationship with my father had left me distrustful of men.
Having an ex-con in the family had solidified the mortar in the brick wall around my heart.
“Getting drunk-married to a stranger isn’t really tracking with the Lo I know. ”
Because he’s not a stranger.
But I couldn’t say that. I planned to deal with this mess myself, and the last thing I needed was Jason getting involved because he and the groom were friends.
I probably shouldn’t have told him but part of me wanted the world to know that I wasn’t such a stick-in-the-mud after all.
I could do wild and crazy like the rest of them.
So I wouldn’t be asking for a sperm donation like Franky or escaping my wedding out of a church bathroom window like Summer, though I sincerely wished I had made a getaway before this entire mess engulfed me.
“Look, I screwed up and—”
“Hey, hey.” He gave my arm a gentle rub. “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I came off as critical. Just being a smug dick because everything’s going so well for me.”
“You’re such a smug dick.”
He leaned back, arms behind his head, lord of all he surveyed. “And I own it. Anything you need, Lo, just ask.”
“Thanks, friend. I’m handling it, but I’ll definitely read you in if I need to.”
He smiled, but not directly at me. “There he is!”
I looked up … into the pale blue eyes of the last person I wanted to see right now.
My secret husband.